


this, love, is a tipping point

by Zofiecfield



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zofiecfield/pseuds/Zofiecfield
Summary: In life, there are countless moments, ordinary and extraordinary, remembered and forgotten.  And then, there are tipping points.
Relationships: Waverly Earp & Nicole Haught, Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	this, love, is a tipping point

Waverly has a theory, developed in daydreams over too many years of cognitive solitude, longing for adventure that refused come. Theory, tested later in the welcomed chaos that engulfed her, baptized by the fire she’d longed for.

Her theory is this: In life, there are countless moments, ordinary and extraordinary, remembered and forgotten. And then, there are tipping points. Often overlooked or mistaken for something transient, they are indelible moments in which life takes an irreversible turn.

A tipping point is a single moment delineating before and after, then and now. A single breath, a single step, in which the direction of travel is chosen and, set firmly, becomes law.

There are innumerable sets of events that can bring you to a moment in time. But a tipping point is different, singular. All possibilities funnel to this one moment, _the_ moment, before expanding again in infinite chance and choice. Sand passing through the narrow neck, single file.

She tried to explain this theory to Wynonna once, but a suggestive wink and a couple of air quotes later, she had given up. _Yeah, I heard you and Nicole reaching a “tipping point” last night... Did you “tumble over the edge”? Twice?_

But, wisecracks aside, she knew Wynonna understood. Doc too, and Nicole. And you, I’m sure, dear reader. Surely you’ve felt a moment, restless under your feet, unsteady and ready to send you tumbling into the now.

  


Opening the door of the car, outside the station. She’d sat there for an hour, stomach tight and brain boiling over. Her head, so loud, finally peaked into the steadying drone of white noise, and only the stubborn desperate want stood out above it, driving her feet. She wanted to be herself, for once, for good. She wanted to shed the weight of carrying everyone else, and, for once, carry only herself. For once, she just plain _wanted_. A first kiss, already on her lips. Open the door, move fast, don’t lose the nerve.

A smile, sweet and for her and only her, thrown over a shoulder from the kitchen sink. That smile could shine through decades. A moment, deceptively quiet, deceptively ordinary. A moment in which she knew this could be forever, knew she wanted it to be. A sudden plunge. She chose, in that moment, to believe forever was attainable and chose, in the moment, to do all in her power to attain it. _Nicole Rayleigh Haught, will you..._

Stone, cold under her, stark in its ability to stand out in an already frozen wasteland. Bound to it, tied by other hands, but accepted by hers. A duty to promises she hadn’t made, to tradition and blood. And then, Wynonna, a challenge to her resignation, a choice. To matter to everyone, invisible, or to a handful, seen. Family and a chance at forever. Thighs burn and she rises.

  


And now. This moment. Another tipping point, sharper and more precarious than any she’s met. The temptation to brace herself against this moment and shift the balance back is overwhelming. 

But, see, there is more to her theory. Tipping points have consequences, risks, either way.

There are three choices at the tipping point. 

You can lean back and fall, headfirst and sightless, towards what was, with no handholds and no ability to recapture or redo. You can wrap yourself in memories and what-ifs, and let time consume you slowly, let yourself rot.

You can remain at the tipping point. No motion forward, no motion back. No growth or change, no joy, no sadness, no love or loss. Stagnant, static, frozen. You can remain there, while the world moves on and you lose your place in it.

Or, you can jump. Tumble, terrified but brave. Accept that the world cares only for a single direction: forward, on. Take the risk, and trust that time with bend and stretch on the other side, trust there will be a way.

She wants, sickeningly, to go back, to undo and undo and undo. Take the woman who was hers far and carry her from here, hunker down and be hers and only hers, there and only there. Love her and build a life, uncomplicated. Children and benign adventure and nights spent consumed by each other, all so steady and sure, it could easily be taken for granted. Foolishness without bitter repercussions, growth without constant threat. To love and be loved, secure.

But the chance to switch to a different line in time, options for a hard right-hand turn and a lateral shift, gone now, if they had ever been at all. Narrowed now to this single point. 

She is as smart as she is stubborn. The moment shifts beneath her and she feels it longing for her reply.

 _I’m asking you to trust us._

She tips, and gravity welcomes her into the fall. 


End file.
